


Nightmares

by eastern_westward_home (orphan_account)



Series: Alfred & Matthew [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred isn't a hero, Angst, Brotherly Love, Drabble, Human Names Used, Matthew being overprotective, Matthew having nightmares, Short, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/eastern_westward_home
Summary: Matthew wakes from his nightmare in the middle of the night.Alfred lives in his nightmare.
Relationships: America & Canada
Series: Alfred & Matthew [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882396
Kudos: 15





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my twin, my platonic soul mate, the America to my Canada. Happy birthday you wonderful, wonderful person~

“Alfred,” Matthew gasped, waking from his nightmare in a cold sweat. He sat up, fumbled around for his glasses. Once he had put his glasses on, he grabbed his phone from his bedside table.

**Alfred** , he texted. **Al are you up?**

**Dude wtf it’s 4 am go to bed,** Alfred texted back.

_ 4 am? _ Matthew blinked in surprise, and checked the time. Sure enough, it was 4 am. 

_ Hm,  _ he thought, and then texted,  **well, you’re up, so…**

**So…?** Alfred wrote.

Matthew pressed the “call” button.

“Bro,” Alfred said after picking up. “Bro. Why? I was  _ sleeping. _ ”

  
Matthew snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Right indeed,” Alfred replied. “Go back to sleep.”

“Wait- Al- I wanted to ask you something-” Matthew began.

“Ask me in the morning,” Alfred said, and hung up.

Fuming, Matthew began spamming their DM with the Russian anthem. 

Finally, Alfred texted,  **Fine. What is it?**

Matthew’s fingers flew over the phone screen.  **Are you doing okay?**

**Yeah,** came the reply.  **I’m fine.**

Matthew nodded to himself, and then wrote,  **okay good.**

Then he put the phone down and tried to fall back asleep.

…

Alfred was not fine. He was not even  _ remotely  _ fine. 

He was pacing back and forth in his bedroom, his emotions a jumbled mess. He was a wreck, but he couldn’t show it. After all, he  _ was  _ the hero. A hero to all. Which meant that there would be no one to be his hero at the end of the day.

He rubbed his face, steepled his fingers.

Finally, he had had enough.

He grabbed the nearest object - his pillow - and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and slid down to the floor. Alfred mirrored its movements, sagging onto the carpet. 

“I can’t do this,” he said to no one, his voice cracking. “I can’t.”

He buried his face in his hands and began to cry.


End file.
